Mans Nilsson held with the Danes, but he was no traitor, and he
showed the fellow the door. He went next to the King's sheriff; he
would be bound to help. To be sure, he would claim the lion's share
of the blood-money, but something was better than nothing. The
sheriff came soon enough with a score of armed men. But Arendt
Persson had not reckoned with his honest wife. She guessed his
errand and let Gustav down from the window to the rear gate, where
she had a sleigh and team in waiting. When the sheriff's posse
surrounded the house, Gustav was well on his way to Master Jon, the
parson of Svaerdsjoe, who was his friend. Tradition has it that while
Christian was King, the brave little woman never dared show her face
in the house again.
Master Jon was all right, but news of the man-hunt had run through
the country, and when the parson's housekeeper one day saw him hold
the wash-bowl for his guest she wanted to know why he was so polite
to a common clod. Master Jon told her that it was none of her
business, but that night he piloted his friend across the lake to
Isala, where Sven Elfsson lived, a gamekeeper who knew the country
and could be trusted. The good parson was hardly out of sight on his
way back when the sheriff's men came looking for Gustav.
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